


Unhurried

by pyrrhical (anoyo)



Series: Repeat 'Verse [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Can Be Read Alone (Easily), Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Repeat 'Verse, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 13:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12913359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: “So, do you feel any different?”“What?”“Different,” Stiles repeated, a laugh in his voice. “You know. Not the same.”(Tooth-rotting fluff.)





	Unhurried

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Lands of Magic](https://lands_of_magic.dreamwidth.org) bingo challenge, and is also part of the Stuck on Repeat series. HOWEVER, it can be read alone with zero context. So there's that.

The pad of a finger pressed into his shoulder, then, “So, do you feel any different?”

Derek glanced at the clock on the side table. 6:52 AM. He turned his head back into his pillow. “What?”

“Different,” Stiles repeated, a laugh in his voice. “You know. Not the same.”

Rolling to glare properly, Derek said, “No.” He paused. “Should I?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said, shrugging. “That’s why I asked.”

Derek closed his eyes, tucking an arm underneath his pillow. There was some morning sunlight bleeding through the curtains, giving the room an odd, ambient glow. Soon, it would be real morning, and the responsible part of him would insist he hauled his ass out of bed. Until then, he could at least pretend he might fall back to sleep.

Stiles’ hand ran through his hair, a light, familiar gesture. “It’s cute that you think you’re getting to go back to sleep.”

“It could happen,” Derek said, cracking an eye back open. 

Stiles squirmed until he’d joined Derek on his pillow, then pulled Derek’s hand up to rest on his shoulder. “It’s too late for you to fall back asleep; you know you can’t.” He grinned. “Plus, you secretly have no idea what I’m talking about and it’s going to drive you crazy later if you don’t figure it out.”

“Stiles, I never know what you’re talking about,” Derek said, raising an eyebrow.

“Categorically untrue,” Stiles replied, grinning. “Occasionally I say things like, ‘Good morning, Derek.’ Pretty self-explanatory, right there.”

Derek snorted. “And half the time, you mean something like, ‘Why are you still sleeping?’ or ‘You have a bed for a reason.’”

“See?” Stiles’ grin widened. “You do know what I’m talking about.”

“Sometimes,” Derek agreed. “Are you going to tell me what you were talking about?”

“I always do eventually, don’t I?” Stiles asked. He traced a finger down the ridge of Derek’s nose and smiled. “Except for that time in Berlin.” Stiles’ face contorted into something that more closely resembled an angry raccoon than the disgust Derek knew it meant. “I hold to the fact that you don’t want to know.”

“I’m not arguing,” Derek said, fighting a smile. A smile would mean Stiles had won. Winning would mean Derek would never get to go back to sleep, possibly ever again. It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

“That’s good,” Stiles said, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s start this out on the right foot.”

“Start what-” Derek started, then paused. “Stiles, we got married, not lobotomized. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

“Of course. When we woke up yesterday, we weren’t married. Today, we are.” Stiles gestured broadly. “It’s all new and shiny.”

Derek gave in and rolled his eyes. “What’s different?” he asked. “If I die, you’re legally entitled to my life insurance. That’s about it.”

Stiles shoved him over and onto his back. Derek pulled his arm out from beneath his pillow, before he wrenched it. “You are the least romantic person ever,” Stiles groaned. “What have I done?”

“What did you say earlier, ‘categorically untrue’?” Derek asked. He rolled back onto his side, then kept going until he was partially pinning Stiles to the mattress. “I’m more romantic on accident than you’ve ever managed to be on purpose.” Derek raised an eyebrow to emphasize his question.

“Hey,” Stiles argued, shoving half-heartedly at Derek’s shoulder. “My vows were _great_.”

“Scott already admitted to helping,” Derek said, propping himself up on his forearms.

“Doesn’t make them any less great,” Stiles said, grinning again.

“Also does nothing for your argument of romance.”

“Whatever,” Stiles said, shrugging half-heartedly. “So, do you? Feel any different? Forget whether or not you _should_.”

More sunlight was leaking through the curtains, illuminating all the room’s dust mites, floating through the air like warm, effervescent snow. Derek hummed softly. “I feel,” he said, then paused. He kissed Stiles lightly, once, then finished, “Calm. Unhurried.”

“I’ll take it,” Stiles agreed. “Welcome to married life.” He grinned, eyes laughing. “How many beginnings have we had, now?”

Derek shook his head. “I think marriage is more a continuation, than a beginning.”

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe. It feels like a beginning, though. Number five, if my count is right.”

“I think that’s a pretty loose definition of ‘beginning,’” Derek argued. He did a mental tally, varied stops and starts flashing through his memory. 

“And here I thought you weren’t arguing with me,” Stiles said, raising an eyebrow.

Derek snorted. “If you think I’m never going to argue with you again, you are going to be very disappointed.”

“Already am,” Stiles quipped, grinning.

Derek kissed him again. “Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me now.”

“I’ll get over it.”


End file.
